Nothing
by LavenderPotato
Summary: Kenny's life has come to a standstill and now it feels like he's living in sludge.


**I'm in a bad mood.**

* * *

Kenny didn't know why he bothered to bother anymore. Going to school made him feel sick most of the time. What would college do for him? Most days when he got there and sat down, he didn't pay attention, didn't bother to write notes, especially didn't listen to the teacher drone on and on. It was pointless. He had no friends here, nobody to talk to, to hang out with, or rip on. All of his friends left when he graduated from South Park.

It must have surprised them, to see him actually graduate. Maybe they all thought he was stupid or something. Kenny wasn't stupid. Sometimes he felt like he was, but not today. He wasn't stupid. The longer he sat in that chair, his back aching from being in the same position for so long, he did start to feel stupid.

Class let out early. Kenny didn't feel good. A lot of days he didn't feel good. It was normal. Normal? Normal to not feel good. Kenny never felt good. Maybe that was okay. Maybe all of this was okay. Never to feel good, never talking to people, never paying attention in class and flunking out. Maybe that was okay too.

He didn't do his homework that night. It wasn't due until Thursday, but he wasn't going to do it. Why did he bother with college? It was so, so pointless. So pointless, sometimes he didn't even go. The school could kick him out of class for not showing up, but Kenny didn't care. Nobody cared. Why did he have to go to school every other day just to feel stupid?

College wasn't like high school, but Kenny didn't miss that either.

It was Tuesday, but Kenny didn't get out of bed. Today, he felt numb. Normally though, he always felt numb. That was okay. Feelings were grated down to numbness lately, but Kenny didn't think it was much different than how he had always felt. Hadn't he always felt numb? Wasn't it normal to wake up and not want to get out of bed? Nothing. Kenny lay in bed all day that day, and nobody came for him. He didn't eat, didn't sleep, he just lie there, staring at his wall.

There wasn't even any energy he could muster to play his DS. One thing, one simple thing that could calm him down and bring him—joy? Maybe it was joy. But, he couldn't do it. His DS was blue, and it sat unused on the floor by his bed, probably not charged. He hadn't played it in weeks. There were probably a lot of Pokemon still on it, some he didn't even like anymore. Kenny used to like Pokemon, but not lately.

He found that, lately, he'd stopped liking a lot of things he used to. Watching horrible comedies nobody else would find funny, reading magazines late at night, playing Nintendo games until his eyes were stinging, those were things Kenny used to like. Likeness—was only numb now. Everything had become numbness.

Kenny felt numb, and he was numb. It wasn't just a feeling, it had buried into his stomach, where it felt as if he'd swallowed a rock. Something bad. All day and all night, he lie in bed, staring at his wall. How could anybody stay like this for so long, he had to wonder, but he didn't wonder at the time, because there were no feelings, no thought, because there was nothing. Nothing, there never was anything.

Maybe Kenny had always been like this. Maybe he'd always been an emotionless person, who lie in bed all day, skipped school, didn't eat, who thought he was stupid all the time. Maybe that's just the type of person Kenny was. It certainly didn't feel any different than normal. Maybe this was normal? It had to be. Kenny tried not to think of himself as different than other people, because nobody was special. People were all the same, all the god damn same.

Some days, he could move. He could get out of bed and muster energy to sustain himself for that day, to eat, to remember he needed a shower, to pee, to change clothes. He tried putting on one of those stupid comedies to watch, but it didn't make him laugh. Maybe he had grown older and they were finally seeming stupid to him? Maybe. He was just getting older.

Laughing hurt for some reason. Kenny never found a reason to laugh anymore. It felt too forced now, never genuine. He had to wonder why? Was this normal too?

Days droned on and on, blending together like gradient, until Kenny couldn't remember the last time he went to school, the last time he did his homework, the last time he saw his mom, or his dad. Nobody ever talked to him, so he didn't talk to anybody either. It felt like he'd become merged to his room, to his bed, because he lay in it most of the time, staring at the wall. Time didn't matter anymore, but Kenny began wishing he could sleep more often.

Most times in the middle of the night, Kenny could feel that coiling feeling in the pit of his stomach surface, like he'd swallowed a fist full of pebbles, and he wanted to choke on it. It hurt so much, it hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. Everything hurt. God dammit, why did he have to hurt like this? Why couldn't he laugh anymore? Why didn't he care about school? Kenny wanted to care. Kenny didn't want to be like this. He knew it was wrong, sometimes, most times, he knew this wasn't the right way to feel or to think.

He wanted help.

Was that stupid? Asking for help? Admitting defeat that something was even wrong in the first place? Was something even wrong, or was he just being sensitive? Maybe he was sick, and just didn't know it.

His chest felt constricted sometimes, where he couldn't breathe, even physically, he felt tied down to his bed most days. He couldn't move.

Kenny could feel himself come out of sleep one morning—or maybe it was afternoon. Time didn't matter. Time wasn't relative. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. His door opened, and he heard a familiar voice. His mom.

Mom.

"Kenny?"

He was lying on his side, facing the door, and he couldn't even lift his head up to meet her. She never seemed to care much for him in the beginning, so why did her voice sound suddenly worried? Did she really love him? Was he dreaming? Had he finally died? Finally?

"Kenny, baby." And her voice was etched with such concern, and it was _genuine, _that when she lay beside him, leaning down to hug him, he could feel himself cry.

Emotion, he was crying. It hurt so much. It hurt, it hurt. Everything hurt, even her love, if it was love, was hurting.

"Mom." Lifting his arms, even though they hurt, he hugged her back, and he felt weak. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. He just cried. "Mom." It felt like a dream. It could have been a dream.

"I'm going to help you, baby. I love you."

Was it real? It didn't feel real. Nothing felt real anymore. It couldn't have been real. But, Kenny cried in his mom's arms, hugging her back. "I love you too, Mom."

**End**


End file.
